Friday, October 7, 2011

Forgive me, child

Dearest Lillie,
I am sorry.
I am so very sorry.
You see, I had plans from the day I knew you were to be mine that this would happen. I felt giddy at the thought of it. I imagined how you would look, how you would frolic, how we would laugh and point at all the options you now have. Birthdays, Christmas, Dances, Proms, and eventually your Wedding Day.
And I'm sure this will happen as you grow without a second thought, without even the slightest bit of remembrance as to what happened to you on October 3rd, 2011.
But I will always remember. Always.
As I put the truck into park, my stomach started weaving in and out of my throat, Was I really going to do this? Maybe I could avoid it for yet another time? What other excuse could I use? No, I want to do it. I want to do it. It'll be fine. It WILL BE FINE.
I pulled the key from the ignition, slowly opened the truck door open and stepped out. I stopped for a moment, arguing with myself for just one more moment before I quickly opened the door revealing your smiling face strapped cautiously into your carseat.
You looked so happy. And yet, I knew this would not remain, I could feel the guilt already pulling it's way to the front of my mind.
We walked inside the store. The cashier was busy. I could just walk back out. Yes, that's what I'll do. I'll just pretend like I came in looking for something and then I didn't find it. No biggie.
As I tried to nonchalantly travel back to the door, it happened"Is there something I could help you with?"
and I thought, it's now or never. Take the plunge. Don't be a chicken. You can do it.
And so I did.Yes, I was wondering if I could get my daughter's ears pierced or if I had to make an appointment?
As I was saying these words the internal struggle pulsing through my body was as strong as ever, Please let her say appointment. Please let her say appointment. Please let her say appointment. "Nope, we can do it right now."
My gut dropped. You smiled. I grimaced. The cashier walked to the stool, handed me a form to fill out and let me choose earrings for you.
I tried to pretend this was fun. I tried to get you to point to what you wanted. I tried laughing when you waved at the ladies walking outside the window. It was all fake. Because I knew that in about 5 minutes that beautiful, one-toothed smile, would be snatched away with no understanding at all.
And more than that I knew it would be my fault.
We sat in that chair, with a dot on each ear and a needle gun precariously pointed at your ear.

It was practically over with before it even began.And yet the tears, the snot (oh, sweet baby Jesus, the snot!) would not end. I saw the looks on the people passing by. They felt the pain too. That's how palpable it was. I tried to hug you. I tried to kiss you. I tried to blow on your belly to make you laugh.
Nothing worked. Nothing.
I could feel it coming. Tears. No, not yours, mine.
I had done this. I had done this to my daughter. I had purposefully hurt her. What parent does that?
And then slowly all the tears stopped coming, the whimpers started to dwindle and we found out that you do indeed like cherry-flavored suckers.
I felt better. I would even venture to say you felt better and by that evening it was as if nothing happened. I cleaned your newly pierced ears and you didn't even flinch. You just ate your animal cracker with the same amount of energy (ridiculously high) you always do.
And now, it's been a few days and I love your earrings. I knew that I would, but I never knew I could feel so conflicted.

Love,
Mom aka. the Worst Mom Ever for at least 10 minutes every day.

P.S.How the hell am I going to make it through your teenage years? Please be good. Please be good. PLEASE be good. Because, if I can barely handle what I do to you, how do you expect me to handle what you do to you? Just remember that. Mom is fragile. And has no problem pulling the guilt card, I carried you for 10 months...